Part 34 (1/2)

Mown clenched his little fists and stood his ground. 'Firstly, the dust filter must be broken in here, Prostetnic, because my pores are filling up. Secondly, I meant this is not right as in it is not by the book.'

Jeltz's wattle wobbled. 'Not by the book, you say? Not by the...' He swivelled towards the com post. 'Record this, would you? I may have to explain the execution to his mother.'

Mown forged ahead with his explanation, as his only other option was to lie down and sob for the state of his race. 'Our order was to eliminate all Earthlings.'

'I do hope your argument improves, because so far...'

'These people bought a planet from the Magratheans.'

'Ah. I see where you're going, but the Galactic Government does not govern the Magratheans. They have their own little republic which is a terrible example for the colonies, if you ask me.'

'You are correct, Prostetnic. Of course, you are, but the Magratheans are a registered business with the government. They have a trade agreement.'

'I suppose.'

Mown ran to the nearest consol, neglecting to mask his agility. 'Look!' he said, quickly pulling up the planning application from the new worlds' office in Megabrantis. 'Nano's planet status has been approved by central planning.'

'It is difficult for a Vogon to find paperwork irritating, Twinkletoes,' said Jeltz drily. 'But I confess that unless you arrive at a point soon...'

'Point on the horizon, Prostetnic. The central planning office approved Nano as a tax-paying member planet of the planetary union, as governed by the Galactic Government.'

'Are you just saying the same thing in a different way? Is that why I sent you to university?' Jeltz picked up a microphone and shouted into the PA. 'We still need to eliminate the Earthlings.'

'Look down here, the last paragraph. Megabrantis, as a matter of routine, also blanket approved the citizens.h.i.+p applications of the planet's owners.' Mown felt his swelling subside, and steam drifted in wisps from his pores, whistling gently. He was talking law now, and no Vogon would argue with the word of law. 'Legally, the Earthlings are no longer Earthlings: they are Nano-ites. Or maybe Nanos.h.i.+ans or Nanolings? I'm not sure. But I am sure that if you zap these people, you zap a nice group of high-band taxpayers who have never filed a return. Imagine, By-The-Book Jeltz frying citizens who owe back tax. Wouldn't Hoopz the Runaround, your old Hall of Kroompst Kroompst buddy, love to hear about that?' buddy, love to hear about that?'

At this point Mown's own supply of kroompst kroompst was completely exhausted and he stumbled backward into the monitors, his body temperature sending a rainbow arc flas.h.i.+ng along the thermo-reactive gas screens. was completely exhausted and he stumbled backward into the monitors, his body temperature sending a rainbow arc flas.h.i.+ng along the thermo-reactive gas screens.

'Wow,' said Jeltz, and it was not a word he used lightly or often. He winched himself out of his chair and allowed his abdominous torso to lug him forward. 'Constant Mown. You have scuppered this mission.' The Prostetnic loomed above his remarkable son, casting an amorphous shadow on Mown's olive, pale face.

'I did what had to be done.'

Jeltz reached out his hand, though this was more for the gesture than the actual practicality of grabbing on to it, as he may as well have tried to hang on to a rubber glove full of dairy-based spread. 'You have seen the truth of the word. And through the word comes order. Stand, my son. Come stand at my elbow.'

Mown, who was expecting to be a splat sc.r.a.per on the next hull detail, stood on wobbly legs and coughed up a quart of fluid and two of the symbiotic hairless flaybooz that all Vogons carry around in their bile sacs to break down concretions.

'Oh, no. Poor Hanky and Spanky.'

Jeltz brushed the sopping b.a.l.l.s aside with the side of his foot. 'Forget those parasites. We have millions in the waste recyclers.'

He activated a bungee pulley from the bridge ceiling, one of several set into the gantry for just such Vogon falling-over emergencies. Mown still had the spark of craft left in him to pretend he needed it and hoisted himself erect.

'Turgid would have been all over this,' Jeltz confided to his son. 'I wouldn't be at all surprised if he's monitoring communications back in Megabrantis, waiting for me to make a boghog's ear of this mission. There's nothing worse than obliterating...'

'The wrong people?' offered Mown.

Jeltz chuckled wetly at his subordinate's little joke. 'The wrong taxpayers taxpayers, Constant. You need to watch that sense of humour other crew members don't have as many levels as we do. Your sarcasms could be mistaken for actual sympathizings.'

'Oh,' said Mown, a handy non-committal syllable to have around when you haven't the first clue as to what you are feeling.

Jeltz plopped backward into his seat. 'Old Turgid was expecting me to arrive back at base with a big bagful of c.o.c.k-up. Instead, thanks to you, we return heroes, with a G.o.d's scalp under our belts and a heads-up for the tax office.'

'Everyone wins... except Thor.'

'What did I tell you, son?'

'No... em... jokes.'

'Precisely. Now squeeze on to this chair beside me and we shall enjoy the false hope of hypers.p.a.ce together.'

Mown's head spun and his hands shook. He had come to the Earthlings' defence and somehow that had become a good thing.

It was the law, he realized. The law saved us. From now on, I must use the word The law saved us. From now on, I must use the word.

He stood sh.e.l.l-shocked, arms raised, while two deck swabs greased him down for the chair.

Jeltz indulged in a moment of semi-fondness, which he permitted himself twice a year. Look at my son, all wide-eyed about his first time on the captain's knee. I had thought that it would be better to send him away, but after his performance today, that boy stays at my elbow. He will be one of the greats. A destroyer of worlds. A confounder of pet.i.tioners. Some day my son will truly be an Utter b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Look at my son, all wide-eyed about his first time on the captain's knee. I had thought that it would be better to send him away, but after his performance today, that boy stays at my elbow. He will be one of the greats. A destroyer of worlds. A confounder of pet.i.tioners. Some day my son will truly be an Utter b.a.s.t.a.r.d.

Nano The stereotypical depiction of a sentient species under threat of destruction from a hovering alien s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p usually sees them running around panic-stricken, clutching their most treasured household appliances close to their b.r.e.a.s.t.s and arranging their automobiles in neat jams on bridges. (Except in the case of the Hrarf-Hrarf movie d.o.o.s.hing of the Red Plong d.o.o.s.hing of the Red Plong, where everyone is quite relieved just before complete annihilation because their lifespan flows backwards through time, so from the Hrarf-Hrarf point of view, they have just survived one humdinger of a d.o.o.s.hing unscathed.) There was no running about on Nano and very few household appliances. The inhabitants stood in John Wayne Square, swaying slightly like reeds, their mouths open as they waited pa.s.sively for death from above.

All except Aseed Preflux, who sat on a bench gorging himself on a tub of cottage cheese.

'I was so wrong,' he sobbed between fistfuls. 'So utterly wrong. To understand the Cheese, the exercitant must consume consume the Cheese.' the Cheese.'

Hillman Hunter stood in the shadow of the statue, trying not to attract too much attention to himself in case people decided to blame him for all their woes. Some things may flow downhill but blame flows to the top, and Hillman preferred not to be in pain until the big pain arrived, which he fervently hoped would be relatively painless.

'See you soon, Nano,' he whispered.

Not just yet, said Nano's voice in his head.

While Hillman was contemplating this mysterious and hopefully prophetic phantom voice, a thrown blob of cottage cheese slopped against the side of his face, plugging one ear hole and dripping underneath his collar.

'Nice work with the G.o.d, moron,' called Aseed Preflux from across the square.

This could get ugly, thought Hillman.

A couple of rose shears were drawn and Hillman was sure he saw a letter knife.

Why is there always someone with a blade?